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понеділок, 1 травня 2017 р.

Timothy Parfitt - Last First Action Hero

Timothy Parfitt grew up in Glencoe, Illinois and Hannover, Germany. A former caddy, he is the editor of I’ll Watch Anything and his essays and criticism have appeared in Deadspin, Thread, Newcity, Chicagoist, Timeout Chicago and Wassup.

***

Last First Action Hero

Written by……………………………………………………………………………Timothy Parfitt

Produced by ……………………………………………………………………………Michael Bay

***

The
Secret Service confiscated my White House-invasion screenplay; I suspect
they’re going to produce it themselves. Listen for a click on the line. Ray
Liotta peeking up through the windshield at the sky. Putin poses as a shirtless
action hero. He glamor shot us, that cad. Vlad’s the real deal, ex-KGB, assassins dip
tea cups with radioactive poison. The richest man breathing, everything everywhere
is his, he hits the gym, he never misses chest day. This is a weird history
lesson. More than a sentence or two of intro before the credits, we’re off to a
bad start. Truffaut said it’s impossible to make an antiwar movie, but we all
know how those frogs flipped in ‘40, so take that with salt. Jim from The Office has bulked up, he’s trying to
pin someone to the wall. Before his flight into the plot lands, a woman in a
hijab shoots him a look. Who wouldn’t side eye these beard bros walking around
with hand guns?The remnants of the
revolution make this persona non grata. The patriots we follow are
sub-contractors. Not only is it hot as balls here but you can’t tell the shadows
apart. We’re boxed into an action set peace. Jihad grandmas duck into windows.
Welcome to Benghazi. Bienvinido a Miami.It sees you. Look up. See the drone? Anything happens to us your family
gets rained upon. We got air support? We
don’t got no support. Cue the theme music. David Caruso pinching his sunglasses.
CSI: mi amo. The fey bureaucrat, by coming between guys and guys, becomes the holder
of Tonto’s leash. Men’s man get your hand off their jeans. We call the
slaughterhouse zombie land. Always. Stay. Strapped. This is you. That’s me.

I
hope one day you won’t wake up and find you missed your child’s entire flashback.
Action heroes need families, distant specters they tap all these veins for. Male
eyes can conveniently disguise their gaze behind offspring beards. Bruce Willis
writhes through a museum of broken glass in his undershirt. Crimson soaked and
punctured, he tilts his head up, he asks to be your last first kiss. Stay out
of Hercules’ way. Blond bitchtwins with accents: lobbyists for Exxon Mobile. Squirrely
natives making me break my own rule. Never get out of the car. All the Arab-looking
extras in the TMZ pretending to sell surface-to-air missiles at a pretend
market. Shake and bake, crashing through fruit stands in this jeep vs. van
chase. You gonna shave your beard, daddy? Fake Facetime with real model
children. Smile motherfuckers. Checking for bombs with a mirror on a stick.
Shit’s banging. Makes you forget you’re in Benghazi. Call the ambassador ambo. As
if they know what’s coming. A series of forced, stiff exchanges. This whole
compound’s a sniper’s paradise. Silenced barrels peek out from torn curtains. A
black guy waving a gun around demanding money. No otherworldly charm to falling
asleep during the politician’s speech. Or at least pretending to, I’ve heard it
a hundred god damned times. The sleeper was in second season of The Wire, the one about white people, he
plays the son of the corrupt union guy who gives the big speech at the end,
after the jig is up. “We used to make
shit in this country” the union says to the suit, who has one foot out the
door. “Now we just put our hands in the next guy’s pocket.” A landline rings in
another room, the suit detonates into a puff of smoke. I’m quite busy these
days. It’s exhausting, it’s like spinning plates, building boxes for all these
bodies, more each day.

DJT
must be a Charles Bronson guy. Law and order, heavy with the steel, ugly, so
the attraction can stay subcutaneous. DJT got a HJ during a late show of Death Wish back in ’74, that’s what must
of happened. That’s when the he was infected by Action Hero. He didn’t even
talk to the shadow afterwards. Back when I was little my Korea and Vietnam-vet
grandfather and I watched action movies. Schwarzenegger was king back then, but
mostly we watched Steven Segal go Under
Siege. Pompous white guy with a ponytail playing Bruce Lee. Hard to hate,
though, despite or because of the appropriation and lame cool guy act, boys
will be boys. These movies can hypnotize a fella, have him waking up the next
day mumbling granite mouthed Stallone. The people pulling the switch think
their harrys are dirty. Sergeants may tremble, but kitchens are safe because
you long barreled that body. When man came into the world, nothing was lacking.
Children rebel against their parents: this is your last chance, Tyrone. Any one
of these people could clack off a vest. The sound of broken glass is an
abundance of caution. These militias have unlimited blackface. Tuesday,
September 11, 2012. The Arab’s writing in a journal, sissy. Hey Nick, get
somebody here who speaks Arabic so we can ask them a question. Transverse
abdominal would reveals the stars and stripes. That was the best three seconds
of your life. Wanna eat from fleshy arms. I’ll be home in two weeks. I’m coming
home soon. McDonalds!! Thirst for happy meals, but we want the toys. Daddy,
we’re having a baby. Flow my tears the shadow said. When they torture musically,
do the alphabet boys play LMFAO? Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle, Yeah. Do
your job: the gates aren’t strong, the walls insufficiently tall. Pump up
speech under blue light of dusk. Recording a heartfelt hairy chest. What the
fuck? Small arms raised to the night. The shells begin to fall. Get your butt
into the safe room. Sticky abs under attack moonlight break.

Intermission

Tarantino
mutilated Nazis but his first love was the black body. Ever since that hotline
blung I’ve wondered if nostalgia isn’t the past. If it’s even nostalgia. To
whoever redacts this please remove all the adverbs. Baby faced monsters now I’m
one big diaper rash. At the stroke of midnight I kissed him. He’d earned it. I
learned, only after I’d moved in, that the previous tenants were ghosts. I’m
not white, I’m OJ. Mine is warm, distant, works a lot. My true feelings
couldn’t be here right now, you hear me. Does it mean that much to you? There
are streets I don’t walk down anymore. I tell my grandmother I don’t live in
that part of town. After breakfast, milk is for chewing. All my pieces are on
the side. When you’re laying with that
------- I hope you’re
thinking about me because I’m thinking about you. Shadows darken the door you
watch them bed your wife. Physical grace is a death sentence. Come to me with
facts or don’t come to me at all. End of discussion. All of my erotic
encounters involve commerce. The tarot reader put her hand on my knee. He put a
finger in my mouth, everyone watched. The light was blinding, I couldn’t read a
face. We only looked at places that were dog friendly. Everyone obviously practiced their
choreography ahead of time. The birds are driven mad by the heat. The walls are
breaking down, fetch my body double, here’s my wig. A scar is the memory’s body
of heat. I apologize if anyone felt autocorrected by my discourse. When one
side stops singing you know Paris is shot. Are Klingon’s black? Resistance is
futile. Sundays are designated for domination and submission.

Where
were we? Lens flares and yelling, Benghazi is under attack. Decisions paired
with an aggressive zoom to the face. Send us in, chief. Why doesn’t this band
of brothers include the Trivago guy? I need a bag full of money and a fully
fueled ticket. Siege narratives become bottle episodes. None of us know the
language. That dude ain’t coming back. The fey bureaucrat won’t let the dogs
off the leash. Tell the blonde to put her fucking head scarf on we don’t need
her mouth right now. More like the Black House, amirite? Jim from The Office has the requisite mass but
doesn’t judge lesser men who lack density. Military strategy is like ordering a
pizza. Let’s release this sucker on Martin Luther King Day weekend. Drop the
zippo into the accelerant. Follow the moustache, smoke rising in the distance,
soundtrack drums a brave heart. You are not direction action elements, where do
you think the next target will be? Do not leave the compound. God damn it. What
do all these chiseled men, away from their families and wives, do in their
downtime? Losing a contact lens is a feminine act. Push the infantilized
translator into a nest of sparks, someone used the word accountability.
Families with a cute dog in the backseat are spared. Don’t stab us in the back,
we’re anglerfish. Skype my Call of Duty war widow, let her role play with the
nanny state. Oh no, more clicks on the line! Tell the NSA it was all for the
lulz. Rape threats sound like meet-cutes pounded onto my vintage typewriter. See?
The natives were on our side after all. Tomorrow, instead of predator drones we
send in the Predator. The CGI flames are much too intense, we can’t make it
from the interior to the exterior. Libya is a nightclub, purple rugs draped
over cheekbones. If Michael Bay made porno it would be all cumshots on abs.
Stop the narrative, put the guns down for a second. Let’s take a moment to
discuss the wonders of nonrepresentational Islamic art. What are you doing
coming out of the bushes like that. Open your door or we blow it open. There’s
so much of this left.

Are
you friendly? Are you? Are you? A roof thatched out of arrows ripped from the
hood of an armored transport. In chase scenes, the hero is the front car, he
kicks, he is a skittish bottom. Don’t try to talk to these guys about consent.
Ask once, then look for forgiveness in the white of their eyes. Go forth young
man! We’re coming in hot when dreams collide. Lots of people double over and
puke. Close up, a wedding ring on a dead man’s hand. Maybe you didn’t notice
it’s open season on Americans. You’re in my world now. Afterwards the men look
like chimney sweeps. Six hours until dawn. If that doesn’t work we head to the
harbor to steal a fucking boat. The fake baby from American Sniper grew up and joined ISIS, Paramount optioned the
story. The government is gnat on the other end of the line, a frequency at the
end of the dial. That’s not my job. Ammo belts have a bit of an S&M vibe to
them. You got me, that’s pillow talk, I’ll save it for after we battle. Two
white house invasion movies came out within a few months of each other in 2013.
Olympus Has Fallen starred 300. White
House Down had Magic Mike. We
just lost all our Libyan security. Who’s going to depend the house now that
Flynn’s been banished? These days, those Hollywood elites would curse the
fortress defended, fill the fruit cellar with rot. Just once I want Darth Vader
to call the rebels terrorists. Are we expecting any friendlies at the
perimeter? We got two cop cars pulling in, fifteen tangos a piece. Brown toes
tip through the fog. Some tangos down by the pillars. Darwin insisted that when
the goggles go green, night makes new animals.

Are
we hot to shoot? Paint these guys infrared, we are all on the same page. Zombies…less
human, or more? Talk amongst yourselves. Drones have replaced helicopters and
cranes for those sweeping overhead aerials. Hit a piece of meat with a stick,
shoot it with a gun, record it for posterity. I like my Action Heroes cool and vulnerable
(Keanu and Swayze point breaking) or handsome and sinister (Mitchum and Mendelson
night hunting). What a shit show. Brought in an American male, alive. Watch out
for an ambush. Either the bad guys are crawling under the sheep or it’s a
romantic subplot. Women provide comfort. I’d settle for a lawn chair if that
would buy us a few hours. I’ll make some calls. My cousin texted to say leave
before it’s too late. No, I’m staying with you guys. We will have to break up
with him eventually. Park the car at the festival of violence. Take the
friendlies through zombie land, as seen from the rooftop. Rags dance in the wind,
slow motion. Confess your love before I lose my tampon. People walk quietly.
What is this? No, you hang up first. Just shoot back. The shadow threatens, it displaces
light. I introduce myself to strangers at the alley, but not right away. How
many people dare burden the ambo? A US seal team in Croatia, a puddle jump from
Italy, give the barbarians at our gate a low fucking fly over. Sundials slice
the look in your eyes, they’re going to remember this night the rest of their
lives. Adrenaline leaves you and the mind keeps bumping against the surface of
the ocean. Oh, yeah, the Facetimes back home. What would they say about you? He
died in a country that meant nothing to him. Then something happened and I ended
up here, in this alternate dimension. Did Salvador Dali observe sharia law?
It’s ok to have a feeling, we were due an emotional beat. I let another man
raise my child. That something that we were fighting for? It’s gone.

Teeth
look white against soot lips, cause of death was smoke inhalation. To get off
this roof is to engage that rack. I never really get scared, is that weird? I
know if I’m doing the right thing, God will take care. Guess we’ll find out
soon enough. Every dude in this movie is a good father, it’s been fun. Google
doesn’t know who you are. It’s up ahead, smothered in butter. Strangers kneel
before battle, I seen it through a keyhole. Boys want your last first kiss, I
want to be your last first Action Hero. We can combat hand to hand before I lay
you down. We’ll listen to the planes take off and land. Let’s see what the
holdup is. I would like to thank the academy. Rockets leave a trails of smoke
across the harvest moon, armored vests make cops Robo. Rowboat, show boat, throw
yourself on top of the grenade for your brother. I once got punched in the
cheek by a black boy from one town over. A well-constructed fence cradled my
fall. I’m coming right back for your brother. Hang in there, hang on, let’s hang
out, he hung up. Dawn reveals the extent of the destruction. Often the children
rebel against their parents because parents are not willing to participate in
the lives of their children. It’s all dust and bodily dripping at this point.
When the dog surgeon drops the slug into the metal bowl expect a ping. Turn
your back if you don’t want to see the corpse drop. Pickup trucks pull flags
that fish tail, it’s our guys. Cock it, massive heavy. Hang ten is the
international symbol for I’m with you. Sobs of relief. The passion of the father
reflects the pictures in the bag. Tell them we baby proofed the mausoleum. Chief,
it’s time.

Load
the bodies into the flat bed and get in the fucking car. Dogs flinch and yelp.
The children are on the street, they watch the caravan flee, unafraid. I’m so
sorry, this should have never happened. There’s melancholy to the morning
after. Flight attendants disembark to welcome the survivors. I walked into this
country, I’m gonna walk out. Get your final line in before boarding the jet.
The fey bureaucrat mumbles something, a brown boy asks can I have gun? A moment
to honor the dead. 10:30 am is when we go home again. We take off, we’re traveling
back in time. I wanted you to hear it from me first, honey, we’re coming home
for good. Zipper the bag shut. This took weeks of planning. Don’t ever think
for a second we weren’t meant to be together last night. Arms cross over
chests, plywood lids cover the mouth of a well. Tear soaked stars and stripes
in a swimming pool somewhere, real sad. It’s official, you fail midterm, you
fail state, you’re a failed state. In real life the Action Hero resigned and
lives quietly with is family. When they asked him to deny himself, he said it
took 13 hours to give the body away. They didn’t believe him until all the
angelic worship in heaven came to a screeching halt.